Free Redemption FinalWPF6 7 by L. E. Harner

Not even me. I was
surprised as hell when Uriah walked in with a bunch of his friends. It was his
damn eighteenth birthday, and in a giant fit of rebellion, he’d ditched his
family and decided to come to one of the party houses by the U.
    “He’d filled out since I’d last seen him, grown into all
that height. Taller than Pete and even broader across the chest. A good-looking
kid. Anyway, these two guys wanted me to go home with them. I was trashed, but
I’d ’a gone. That was what I did, you know?” This time she did meet Gabe’s gaze.
It was better to know his reaction, so she could guard her heart.
    Gabe’s hazel eyes were steady, his expression one of polite
interest, as if this were a story about somebody else. “Go on, I’m listening,”
he said.
    Diane nodded, but her heart rate sped up and there was a
nervous flutter in her stomach. This wasn’t a story she’d ever told outside of
her recovery group or to her therapist. There was a reason she didn’t like to
look at these memories. Then Uriah’s hand closed around hers, and he gave a
little squeeze. His reassuring grip gave her the encouragement she needed to go
on. Taking a deep breath, she continued.
    “One of the guys pulled me by the arm. Like I said, I was
sick and I was trashed, so I stumbled a bit. Uriah must have seen, because he
came straight across the room and threatened to kick the guy’s ass if he laid a
hand on me. Before I could say a word, Uriah wrapped his arm around my shoulder
and steered me from the house. Took me to his car, put the seatbelt on me. I
don’t remember much about what he was saying, but I guess when he touched my
skin, he realized I had a fever. He got me to the hospital. To make a long
story short, they treated me for hepatitis B. The doctors convinced my family
to do an intervention and I ended up in rehab.
    “Uriah visited me. Shit.” She could feel her face burning
with the shame of those memories. Now that she’d started telling the story, she
was determined Gabe would hear it all, know the worst. She rocked back and
forth, hugging her legs to her chest. “I had to finish detox and go to
counseling, but eventually they let me have visitors. Uriah was right there. No
one else. Not my family, not any of my junkie friends. Just Uriah.”
    She dropped her voice to a near whisper. “At first, I tried
to seduce Uriah so he would get me out. Or bring me booze. Anything to quench
the thirst that was burning a hole in my brain.” She looked up at Gabe again
then risked a glance at Uriah. He lay next to her, still holding her hand, his
eyes closed. She continued.
    “He was a kid and I would have given him any part of me just
to get my next fix.”
    Uriah’s thumb rubbed against the back of her hand. He didn’t
let go but he didn’t look at her, either.
    “And did he?” Gabe asked.
    “No,” she whispered. “Thank God. He told me not to be
stupid.” Suddenly, Diane grinned. It was the first happy memory she had of that
dark time. “Those first weeks were awkward because I didn’t know what to say,
didn’t know what had been happening in the world. Uriah just talked about
anything and everything. Sports, his classes, mutual friends. Here he was,
eighteen years old, working, going to JC, and spending his free time helping me
put my life back together. Pretty soon, the feelings I’d faked at the beginning
started to feel real. I couldn’t trust them, you know? I was worried I was
making Uriah my next fix. I am an addict, after all.”
    “Yeah, I think I get that. But Uriah wasn’t a kid. Not
technically.”
    “No, not technically, but I began to fixate on my feelings
for him. I thought I was in love with Uriah. The counselor thought it was just
another form of dependence and suggested it might be better if Uriah didn’t
visit any more, but I didn’t want to be alone. So, I asked him to bring Pete
along.”
    She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Uriah still hadn’t spoken,
hadn’t changed the